


Iron In The Fire

by kurtwagnerok



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Character of Color, Canon Het Relationship, Excessive Swearing, Impregnation, Mpreg, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prison, Science Experiments, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9302186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurtwagnerok/pseuds/kurtwagnerok
Summary: After making a deal with Amanda Waller in exchange for whatever he wants, El Diablo finds a new family after losing an old one, and he realizes fire can be more than a flame and that if you play with it you'll get burned.





	1. Special Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheEmberCity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmberCity/gifts).



> This is dedicated to [@TheEmberCity](archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmberCity/works). Thank you for this prompt even though I kinda made into a huge complex idea and thank you for providing me with some juicy reading materials and being my sorta beta. Also big thanks to my friend Kayla who doesn't know about this but lowkey helped me write it. 
> 
> *thumbs up* I hope you enjoy!

The fire never burned him, but he wish it did. He wish he could gather the pain that escaped from their throats their screams were an auditory representation of what they were feeling, agony—he couldn't see their expressions, the heat had melted and charred their skin beyond the point of recognition. He wish he could take the fire from them, but he couldn't. He couldn't take back his emotions or who he was.

His children lay in their beds, the perfect picture of peace. He told himself that they were in peace, that they couldn't feel the flames licking at their skin. He told himself over and over that they left this world not knowing that their papa was the one who took them from their lives. He didn't think of them graduating high school, his hija wanted to play fùtbol and her dream was to win the world cup, his hijo wanted to be a doctor and save lives—they were nothing like him, and now they wouldn't have the chance to be more than him.

Grace, his love, wasn't consumed by the flames, at least not the real ones. She had instead took his heated words that burned her heart. He had watched as the smoke filled her lungs and she could no longer stay up. She crumbled to her knees and it was only then did he realize what he was doing. It was only then did he see the conflagration that surrounded the area except for them two. Even in anger he had shielded her from himself.

He could feel them, his children's pain, his wife's pain but he couldn't take it away. He couldn't calm down enough for the fire to do the same. He held her to his chest, hoping that maybe she could live, that she could live through his curse. He had given her two children, and now he has given her death.

He was a monster among men, war amongst peace, death amongst life. He was wrong and this was all wrong but no matter how much he closed his eyes and willed the fire away, it wouldn’t leave him. It would leave his life, it wouldn’t leave the life he built. The life he built with his wife and his children, the one that was unlike the life he was raised upon.

He no longer heard her coughs, no movement from her, just stillness. She was an outlier. The calmness to his world of gang activity and dopeslinging. Coming home to her was when he felt cold but it wasn’t bad. He was always hot and she cooled him down, but now she was gone and he was burning.

The sound of the police siren vaguely registered in his ear, all he could hear was himself. The sound of his breath, pushing throughout his lungs and out of his throat. As his chest moved up and down, he could feel his shirt pushing off of his chest. Though he was holding his wife, he felt all alone and he knew that was true.

He set her down gently, and stared at her face. She was beautiful, and this would be his last image of her. A moment of time that he would never forget. He kept his eye on her, hoping that she would look up and starting yelling at him in Spanish for fucking the house up but she didn’t. She stayed there like La Bella Durmiente. Stepping back, he ingrained the image of her in his head. He didn’t think about when they were arguing or when he grabbed her or when she threatened to leave with their kids. He left the room, he walked by his children’s room unable to even bear having their image burned into his retinas, and he left the house. He left them there. He left the life he once knew and walked right into a new one.

The police sirens were loud, the fire trucks were even louder. They brought him back to the present, back to his actions. The noises brought him back and it was like he had gotten hit with a rock. He had killed his family, the only ones he had left in this cruel fucking world. He had killed them all because he couldn’t control himself.

He stood in the doorway, watching as the police walked up to the house with their guns out. He deserved whatever punishment they could give him, if anything he deserved to rot in hell. He deserved eternal damnations feelings the flames that he could never feel before. He slowly raised his hands, succumbing to his inadvertent actions, surrendering. Arms now behind his head, in a placating gesture. He wasn’t looking to fight or to resist.

The cops stared at him, somewhat confused by him giving himself up or maybe they were afraid—it was probably a mix of both. They had heard of him or at least of El Diablo, the gangster. They had heard of how fire danced between his fingers and burned those who defied him. They had probably heard how he was the devil of the streets, ready to burn those who disobey.

“On your knees, on the ground!”

He did as they commanded. Once he had been king who would never falter at those who didn’t know there place, but now he was trying to learn his. As soon both his knees pressed into the wet soil, three cops came and surrounded him. One pulled his arms down and forced them into the cuffs unnecessarily, they didn’t see that he was giving up, they must have thought it was a ploy.

“Chato Santana, you’re under arrest for arson. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to the attorney…”

He had heard it all before, back when he was in prison for possession. He had been carrying a dime bag in his pockets when the police made him pull over. He wasn’t in for long because they didn’t have a warrant to search his car, but he knew what it was like in there. It wasn’t enjoyable in the least especially not for people like him. In prison he had to use his abilities not for intimidation but for protection.

“ _Do you understand_ the rights as they’ve been read?” the cop said, putting extra emphasis. He hadn’t been listening but he understood, he understood very well. They didn’t care about his family inside or his memories inside that house burning to the ground, they cared about what information that could peel from him. They were going to question him till he broke, not knowing that he was already broken.

“Sí.” he said. A simple word, that held too much meaning.

* * *

They were never able to get much from him. He wouldn’t give up any names, any deals or any locations. He didn’t offer any help nor any assistance; therefor, he was useless to them. He was just another drug dealer once they saw that El Diablo wasn’t a snitch and was as tough as nails when it came to remaining staunch against their interrogation tactics. He hadn’t blinked when they lowered the lights until he could only see their beady eyes among the darkness, nor had he faltered when they brought up his family.

He was a stonewall. Impenetrable.

“Grace Santana, correct?” the detective asked. The man had his hand on Chato’s shoulder, leaning close to his ear, whispering her name to mock him. Chato didn’t go for the bait, he gazed ahead, his eyesight going out of focus. He wanted to block them out so they would eventually just put him in a cell, but he couldn’t ignore what they were saying—not about his family.

“That’s odd that she took your name...you were her bitch…” the detective dragged it out, his breath coasting across the shell of Chato’s ear. He still didn’t move a muscle, not even at the taunt, they were looking to get a rise out of him but he was emotionless. The detective circled around Chato till they were looking eye to eye, “Right?”

Chato looked past him to inspect the woman behind the detective. She looked strong, like she exuded authority and power. He felt instincts in him, waiting to submit to her but he just stared at her the same way she was to him, and she smirked.

“How big was her dick?” the detective said crudely, and then looked down at the manilla folder with sudden interest, “It says here she knocked you up twice, they must’ve been a couple of brats if you had to go burn them to a crisp, huh?”

“Chingate.” Chato spat at him, momentarily angered by what he said. Chato loved his children, they were his pride and joy. He never even had the heart to hit them when they misbehaved, it was always Grace that dealt with them that way. This man was attempting to tarnish the image of his family. The images that he left in his head.

“Getting a little heated, huh. That’s right it was an accident, you uh, lost control of your powers?” the detective said, feigning sympathy.

Chato felt the flames lick at his palms but whatever kind of cuffs they had on him wouldn’t bring the fire to fruition, so he sat back in his seat and forced himself to calm down but once he was angry it was hard for him to be anything other than that.

“That’s a sorry excuse for murder, you know that? When I throw you in prison, you’ll be in there for life cause I’ll find out every person who ever killed with your little powers. We’ve been hunting your ass down, El Diablo and we’re going to put you away for more than killing your wife and kids.” the detective said harshly.

“As far as I can see, he already confessed to the fire and nothing else,” the woman that had been staring Chato down stepped away from the shadows a.nd into the light, “Other than that, you have nothing on him.”

The detective spluttered, “There are people who will testify as witnesses to everything he’s done!”

“You and I both know that they wouldn’t say a word, knowing what he can do,” she said, and oddly she looked pleased when thinking about what Chato could do. Who was this woman?

“I’ve been investigating this bastard for years, you think I’m going to just-”

“I don’t think anything of you, you’re just a rookie with high hopes of bagging the Devil of the Streets. So what you can do is get out of my sight and let me talk with Mr. Santana,” the woman said.

The detective stuttered and looked at Chato who smirked, his tattoos twisting up his mouth which made it look more like a smile than it was. The detective took up the folder and with one last look at the woman—

“And I don’t want anyone listening to our conversation or I’ll have you in federal lock up.” she said.

When the detective left, she finally sat down in the chair across from Chato and out of her suitcase she pulled out a manilla folder, similar to the one that detective was waving around but for some reason this time it looked less like an interrogation device and just simply ominous.

“My name is Amanda Waller, I work for the President.” she crossed her legs, her voice was loud but he could tell that it wasn’t intentional. She didn’t seem like a threat but he knew that he shouldn’t underestimate her or take her for granted.

“Work?” Chato asked.

“Yes, I am a former congressional aide and a veteran agent, I do a lot of things for this government _and_ this country Mr. Santana but recently in the past five years since the emergence of Superman and upon discovery more people with extraordinary powers I have found an interest in metahumans.” she said, and she placed the folder on the table, opening it up to show a series of pictures.

Chato recognized some of them, mainly The Flash and Superman, there were others too like a pretty woman with a fierce expression and a man whose face was half metal, she then moved the pictures aside and there was no doubt at what they were of. Charred corpses, people with burns littering their bodies.

“What do you think these pictures have to do with each other, Mr. Santana?” Waller asked.

Chato looked away from them and shrugged. He didn't want to look at those memories—back when he couldn't control himself, when he didn't know what to do with his abilities, he still didn't.

“I'll tell you. These are some of the world's most powerful metahumans, I’m sure you've seen a few of them before,” she said gesturing to the images of the people, and then moving to the more gruesomely images, “These are people that you've killed as a child. You see, we've been tracking you and watching ever since we first had about the boy that conjured fire from his hands, we watched you struggle to control them.”

“So you gonna try to put me away for something I did as a kid?” Chato asked, and to think that he had some hope that this woman was different than the detective. He was ready to go to prison not for some vendetta, but on his own volition.

Waller shook her head with a smile that Chato taken back, she seemed almost amused by him, “Mr. Santana I'm not looking to _put you away_. I'm showing you these pictures because these metahumans are heroes, they fight for the government and _protect_ America, and these pictures are of what a metahuman can do without discipline.”

“You telling me I'm one of these metahumans, nah, I'm just me.” Chato said, shaking his head incredulously at her inquisitions.

“But you are Mr. Santana, you were born that way. You were born stronger and unlike any normal human, just like Superman!” Waller said excitedly, “And we've been watching you, you have controlled your powers and you understand them.”

“No, I don't understand my...powers. They're a curse, not a power or an ability, I only learned to control them because I can't keep killing people. Mierda! I still kill people.” Chato said, he was beginning to get angry, he could feel it. The fire bursting at his chest. He breathed in and out, hit air blowing out of his nose, heating up the room.

“And I'm sorry for your loss, but with you...we could truly understand metahumans and you could finally control your powers. It doesn't have to be a curse, Mr. Santana.” Waller said, the hope glinted in her eyes and Chato noticed how diabolical she looked under the only light in the dark room.

“With me? I ain't a hero like Superman.”

“Well what we want you for is not so you can be a hero, you're a killer, you're going to prison but...if you agree to acquiesce to a deal I can do something for you.” Waller said.

“A deal?” Chato inquired, suspicious.

“Yes, we've been working on something called Project Task X, and we haven't been able to start phase one because of the lack of a proper subject, but you're perfect.” Waller said.

“Why me?”

“Omegas are extremely rare, metahumans are just as rare, and you're the first omega metahuman we’ve encountered. Our goal is to create the ultimate metahuman to have at our disposal to fight any metahumans that use their powers for non heroic purposes.” Waller explained.

“Okay I'm an omega, so what?” Chato shifted in his chair, he was feeling uncomfortable that she had brought up his biological role. It has always been a sore topic for him ever since he presented.

“Omegas have a higher fertility rate than beta females or alpha females.” Waller said.

“Fertility?” Chato looked confused and then when he realized what she was saying he stood up angrily, "¡Maldicion! You tryna get me pregnant?”

“Calm down Mr. Santana, it's not as unethical as it sounds.” Waller held out her hands to placate him.

“Fuck that! This my body, I ain't no puta!” Chato sat back down with a huff. He couldn't believe the audacity of this woman. He was offended that she would even attempt to extend a deal like that. He had too much pride to put himself in that position.

“Mr. Santana please calm down, I was in no way implying that you were,” Waller sighed, “You won't be having sex with anyone.”

“Then what will I be doing?” Chato said sharply.

“Intrauterine insemination. The doctors will just put sperm inside of you from a known metahuman to fertilize your eggs, you won't have to do anything but carry the child,” Waller smiled hoping to convince him but it came off more sinister, “I have been working on this project for years with many doctors and it's failsafe, no harm will come to your or the baby.”

Chato just stared at her like she had grown two heads. This woman was loco if she really thought he would agree to them using his body in that way. He may have lost all sense of respect for himself but he still had a sliver of dignity left that he was going to hold onto.

Waller’s mouth tightening as her patience was withering down, “If you agree to do this...what if I can guarantee that you'll be free. All previous criminal records expunged.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Chato shook his head, “I don't want to be free.”

“Then what do you want? What can I give you to make you do this? Every man has a price.” Waller said.

Chato was pretty sure he was going to say no, there was no doubt in his mind that he didn't want to do this. He wasn't some science experiment and he didn't want to betray his Grace by essentially having someone else's child, but Waller was right—every man had a price.

“Say I agreed to do this…” Chato shook his head like he was ashamed of what he was about to say, “You gotta give me _whatever_ I want.”

Waller hesitated but then nodded, “Whatever.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Waller asked for clarification.

“Yeah, I'll do it.” Chato said, “But you have to give me what I want, comprendes?”

“Yes, you have my word. What is it that you want, Mr. Santana?” she asked.

“I want solitary confinement while I'm carrying and when the baby's born I want the needle.”

“The needle? You want to be executed?” Waller asked, shock in her eyes.

“Yeah.” Chato said. He knew that the only way for others to ever be safe from him was for him to cease to be living. He didn't think he could go on anyway after losing his wife, his children, and then having another one be taken to use as a government weapon.

“Are you sure?” Waller asked. She didn't feel sympathetic for Chato’s decision but she would be losing the possibility of producing more metahumans through him, not to mention it would be a hassle to hide his execution from the public.

“Yeah…” Chato said and then as an afterthought, “I don't want the baby to know about me, y’know when they get older, to them I never existed.”

“I...yes, we can do that.” Waller said, she extended her hand for him to shake but then remembered he was cuffed. Clearing her throat, she gathered up the pictures back into the manilla folder, “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Santana, you'll be transported to Belle Reve tomorrow for your first session, you will not regret this.”

Chato watched as she left the interrogation room, and he sighed, “Yeah, I won't.”

* * *

He was the only one on the bus to Belle Reve, he was sitting close to the front but moved to the back because the way the bus driver was eyeing him through the rearview was unsettling and it made him pissed off a little. He tried to relax in the seat but he just kept thinking of the conversation with Waller and if he didn't think of that he would end up thinking about the fire, and he didn't want that visual in his head.

To think he went from killing his family to agreeing to have another child. Even when he got disgusted by the thought of what he was going to be doing, he always thought of the end result. After this he would be dead, the only proper price to pay for what he's done, and the thought of dying and no longer having to deal with reliving the fire in his mind was much more appealing that living and having that be his sole thought.

What would Grace think? That's the thing—she can't think. He took that ability away from her, from his children, and all that was left was for him to think. That's all he seemed to be doing, all he could do.

After a day of thinking over it and sleeping on it, tucked away in the corner of the holding cell, he didn't regret agreeing to Waller’s deal. What did it matter what he did now anyway? He was going to be a dead man.

The bus lurched to a stop and he focused once more on reality. His chest bumped against the seat in front of him. He didn't have much to brace himself with seeing as how his hands were encased in some weird clear cuffs, most likely to prevent him from setting everything on fire and possibly blowing the bus up.

He stood up and walked to the front of the bus. The driver hadn't pulled the doors open yet, and Chato looked over his shoulder expectantly. The man raised an eyebrow.

“You gon’ open the door?” Chato asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.

The driver humphed like he was offended, but pulled the doors open with a screech and Chato stepped out. Looking around with no interest, he noticed how sad the prison looked. A drab gray, the only spot of color he had seen was the on the gate before they came in was a graffiti skull.

Amongst the gray, he could see Waller clad in a blue skirt suit walking towards him with a woman and man behind her wearing lab coats, and a man next to her who Chato could safely assume was an officer judging by his uniform.

Waller stood in front of him with a straight face not unlike the one he remembers from when she had been watching him in that interrogation room.

“It's good to see you again Mr. Santana.” Waller greeted.

Chato just looked at her, wondering when she'll skip the formalities. He could tell she'd rather not be this polite if she didn't have to be.

“I have with me Dr. LaGrieve,” she gestured to the brown haired man behind her with glasses, and then to the blonde woman, “And Dr. Herrs. I suggest you get along with them seeing as how they will be consulting and overseeing most of the procedures.”

The doctors stood straight and at ease, like Waller’s little soldiers. She had probably blackmailed them or something. Chato didn't care for them either way, or for getting along with them.

“And this is Griggs, the commanding officer. He'll take you to your cell when you're done with your first session.” Waller said. Chato made eye contact with officer and the man grinned leeringly.

Waller then turned on her heel, and the doctors fell in line behind her as she walked away, talking about the prison. The officer, Griggs, came up behind Chato standing a bit too close and pushed him forward so he would begin following Waller.

“Here we hold metahuman criminals and only occasionally normal human criminals, if they're extremely high risk individuals. We keep them here because this is a black site prison, which means this place isn't traceable or trackable. No one has ever or will ever escape from here.” Waller sounded pleased about that, insu“And you're here because what we're doing is technically a black project.”

“Black project?” Chato asked, confused by the term.

“Yes, a highly classified military or defense project, unacknowledged publicly by the government, military personnel, or defense contractors.” Waller said, sne sounded like she recited that many times before now.

“So illegal?” Chato said, cursing his luck.

“Not illegal, just unacknowledged like I said.” Waller said leading them further into the prison, they passed through a room with what was a basically a large cage.

“Who you keeping in there?” He asked.

“Currently no one, before we kept an extremely dangerous metahuman there but the cage proved to be insufficient.” Waller said.

“Where they at now?”

“That's classified information.”

With that they walked by the cage and into a hall with a lot of doors. Chato heard a faint pounding sound as they got closer to one door, Chato stopped to check it out but Griggs pushed him ahead. Chato was really starting to hate being cuffed seeing as how already people wanted to grate on his nerves.

Waller lead them into what looked like the infirmary. The floors were a starkingly neon green while everything else was gray, his shoes squeaked as the went around the corner into another room. There was a bed, an out of place fridge, and lots of machines that Chato wasn't sure what they did.

“You're dismissed Griggs.” Waller said.

“You sure, I mean if he gets out of line, I can do a little-” Griggs interjected to goofily karate chop in Chato’s direction, “Y’know, I mean I've been working with their kind for a while and I know how to keep ‘em check, they're not so bad without their esés”

“I've been working with _their kind_ long before you knew they existed. I assure you I can handle myself.” Waller said referring to a different kind of people than Griggs was, and Chato didn't doubt it. She was probably carrying a gun on herself somewhere since she did say she was an agent.

“Alright, but if you need me, just call my name,” Griggs said leaving the room not before staring Chato down and holding his hand up to show his karate chop.

Waller shook her head, muttering something under her breath before looking at Chato, “Alright Mr. Santana, the doctors will do a brief checkup just to make sure you are healthy before doing any procedures.” she then took out a small remote and pressed a button. With the sound of air being released, the clear casing around Chato’s hands fell off.

He rubbed his wrists and he was disturbed by how they felt cold compared to the rest of his body.

“Don't think about getting hot or you'll get that execution sooner than later.” Waller said.

Chato just shrugged, her threat didn't scare him all that much. He sat down on the bed as Dr. LaGrieve pulled out a black case. Inside were things he had seen before: a stethoscope, tongue suppressers, a light. It was all stuff used for routine checkups. The last time he's seen any of that stuff was when he took his kids to get their checkup.

The doctor check his ears, his throat, his eyes, and his reflexes. Using the stethoscope he asked him to breath too many damn times. Dr. Herrs had him stand up, and she took his weight and height. It was all boring shit. They then touched his stomach, squeezing his hips and Chato was tempted to push the doctor away but he remained still.

“You've had children before, correct?” Dr. Herrs asked, and Chato nodded noticing the woman eyeing his tattoos suspiciously, “I um don't see a c-section scar, so I assume this was naturally?”

“Yeah.” He hated the whole process, it was painful and uncomfortable, the second time wasn't any better but he had Grace by his side the entire time and in the end seeing his children’s faces was worth all the pain.

“Could you lie back on the bed please?” Dr. Herrs asked. The other doctor pulled one of the machines next to the bed and Chato recognized it immediately. It was an ultrasound machine.

Dr. Herrs hooked a hand under Chato’s shirt silently asking and he just shrugged. His shirt was pulled up and it was almost nostalgic as she put that cold gel on his stomach. He remembers when he first had an ultrasound done, Grace had laughed when he hissed at the coldness but then a few seconds later she was crying when she saw the fetus on the screen, it didn't affect him that much since he thought it looked like a squirrel.

The doctor rubbed the wand on his stomach, looking for something in the screen and just as soon as it happened it was over. She wiped his stomach and he pulled his shirt back down and sat up.

“Well you're perfectly healthy, Mr. Santana. We can do the insemination now or tomorrow, it's up to you.” Dr. LaGrieve said, placing a hand on Chato’s shoulder which he looked at and then shrugged off.

“Yes, I know this is a very emotional process and procedure, you don't have to do it all in one day.” Dr. Herrs agreed with her counterpart.

“Nah, let's get it over with.” Chato said.

Waller stepped up from where she was standing, “Are you sure? There is no rush, Mr. Santana.”

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

Dr. Herrs went to the fridge to get the sample, while Dr. LaGrieve pulled the sheet around the small area, leaving Waller on the outside unable to see what was happening.

Dr. LaGrieve handed Chato a white gown, and he grabbed at it staring at the garment like it personally offended him. He pulled it on while the doctors rummaged around getting all that was needed. Underneath the gown, he took off his own clothes and then sat back on the bed. The doctors had pulled a metal table next to the bed, and there was a small clear bottle with some kind of clear liquid inside, and then there were other instruments that he didn't want to think about.

“First we're going to inject you with pheromones so that it will simulate your heat, then we will insert the sperm through this little tube and it should very quick. It isn't painful at all,” Dr. Herrs explained with a smile. She then grasped Chato’s arm lightly, taking a black rubber rope and tying it around his arm, she then tapped at his forearm till his vein was visible. Taking the syringe and pulling someone the liquid up, she tapped at the sides with a klink and squirted some out then injected it into his arm.

There was a sharp pain but as soon as he felt it, it was gone. She removed the rope and he didn't feel anything for a while until the room started to get really hot. This effects were immediate and familiar. He started sweating and he felt that tell tale sign of emptiness. He unknowingly started squirming.

“Alright, now I'm going to need you to lie back and put your legs up.” Dr. Herrs said, and Chato did as he was told—the mimicked heat making him submissive as he laid back. He could smell everything, both the doctors were betas and though he already knew it Waller was an alpha and just the thought of that was pleasing him more as time went by.

He faintly registered what they were doing to him but he was too focused on the thought of getting filled by an alpha. He started think of his Grace, and how she would take care of him when he got like this. She would send the kids to stay with their abuela, as his heat influenced her rut. They would fuck all night, and she would always pull out spraying her-

“And we're done!” Dr. LaGrieve said loudly. Chato shook the fuzz from his brain and sat up, he felt the heat wearing off since the dose wasn't enough to have him completely delirious.

Dr. Herrs handed him an orange jump suit to change in, and he quickly did so avoiding their eyes, leaving the top half off since he felt too hot. He no longer felt like he was burning up, he was surprised that he didn't set on fire which he tended to do when he got like that, it probably had to do with those weird cuffs he had on.

“When will this shit wear off?” Chato asked.

“In about two more minutes, but seeing as how you're burning it off, maybe less,” Dr. LaGrieve said, “but you don't have to leave until you're ready.”

“Whose baby am I having?” Chato asked while he waited.

“Hm?” Dr. Herrs responded surprised by the question.

“Whose jizz do I have inside me?” Chato said crudely. It was only common courtesy to tell him what kind of monster baby he was going to be carrying.

Dr. Herrs blushed and opened her mouth to speak but Dr. LaGrieve beat her to the punch, “That's classified information.”

Chato sucked his teeth, annoyed, at the general lack of information, “Everything's fucking classified.”

“We can tell you that he's—they’re currently being held here. It's just for your safety, the less people that know the better. We don't to risk the donor finding out.” Dr. LaGrieve explained.

“Why?” Chato asked.

Dr. LaGrieve looked hesitant to answer, “...Because he may become hostile.”

“Why? If he agreed to it then there should be no problem,” Chato said confused, but then he noticed how dodgy both doctors began acting and then right on queue Waller slid the curtain open.

“That's enough talking.” Waller said, her voice stern and Chato heard the dominance in her tone and he almost complied but the pheromones were wearing off enough that he didn't have that pull over him and he could act like his normal self.

“You're shady as fuck,” Chato said, “You took this guy’s sperm and he didn't even know, that shit isn't right.”

“Oh get off your soapbox, he's a cold blooded criminal, he lost any semblance of what's right once he killed five men.” Waller said, not liking the way Chato was grilling into her.

“You’re a criminal too.”

Waller glared at Chato, “I'm doing what's best for this country and possibly this world.”

“Whatever,” Chato hopped off of the bed finally feeling the pheromones burn from his body, “It's your ass when this hombre finds out.”

* * *

Waller personally escorted him to his cell, she was probably keeping an eye on him after he confronted her on her dubious acts to make sure he didn't snitch. She had guaranteed that it was as solitary as confinement could possibly get. Griggs had offered but Waller declined, Chato was sure she could sense something was off with him too, she seemed like one of those people that could someone like a book and Chato was included.

“The baby...when it's born will it have a good family?” He asked as the walked past the large cage that he remembers from earlier. This was something that had been on his mind, just because he was dead didn't mean he didn't want the best for his child.

Waller glanced over at him but Chato stared ahead like he had never said anything, she sighed, “We won't be putting the child for adoption if that's what you're asking.”

“I know.”

“The child won't have a traditional family,” Waller said, she was probably thinking off how much government spending would go into who would watch the child, “There will be observation on whether nature or nurture influences the morality-”

Chato cut her off with a shake of his hand, and he didn't miss the way she stepped back with a hand at her hip, “Nah. I mean will it be loved and happy, will someone take care of it?”

Waller visibly relaxed, her hand dropping to her side, “You have to understand, and I'm saying this to be honest with you, this child will spend most of their life training, surrounded by doctors and scientists, being studied. They won't live an ordinary life or will they be an ordinary child.”

Chato nodded, appreciating her honesty, but that didn't mean he'd have to be happy with it. He wish the child could be with someone in his family, but he didn't have anyone left that was his flesh and blood but Grace had people on her side, and he told Waller this.

“Could you make sure it gets to know meet its abuela?” He asked.

“I've read your file back and forth, your mother is no longer living.” Waller stated. Chato thought back to his mother, she was a good woman, she died in her sleep. She had always said if she died it was because she didn't have the heart to stop smoking, Chato didn't miss her all that much, he knew she was in peace and it wasn't right to miss her.

“Yeah. Grace’s mama.” Chato said.

“That can be arranged,” Waller said, and looking down at him a questionable glance, “You know for someone who probably won't even see the child, you care an awful lot.”

Chato shrugged, “Instinto, There's just that urge to make sure it's safe and happy.”

“I never understood that.” Waller said.

They went east from the corridor, in a different direction from when he first got here and came through the front of the prison. They walked into a large courtyard, the metal walls made him feel a bit caged in but it was something to get pass. In the dead center of the courtyard were a series of medium sized pill bunkers.

Waller walked over to one, and rapped on it with her knuckles, it was completely hollow from the noise it made. There was a frosted circular window on the front of it and on the side was a rectangular one which had a bar so that the window could be pulled open.

“Here's your cell.” Waller said, leaning against it.

Chato pointed at it, almost laughing, “You joking?”

“Do I look like I joke?” Waller retorted standing up straight, “These are old atomic bomb shells, hollowed out, with enough space for two people to lay down comfortably. You don't even have to leave, seeing as food will be brought to you.”

“You lost me at atomic bomb shells,” Chato crossed his arms, he was pretty convinced that Waller was fucking crazy especially when she was smiling like him sleeping in a bomb was common occurrence, “What if it goes off?”

“What would it matter? You want to die anyway.” Waller said.

“But you don't want me to.”

“Hence, why this is completely safe and comfortable, we even installed a feature just to suit you.” Waller said.

“Oh en serio?” Chato said looking positively unimpressed.

Waller pointed to the back of the bunker, “They are pipes installed so that if need be we can _flush_ you out.”

“I don't do water.” Chato said.

“Oh I know, this is only for when you don't cooperate.” Waller smirked, and then as if she was done with Chato’s attitude she stepped close to him and said, “I assure you Mr. Santana, this is safe.”

Chato just stared at her and the pointed to the bunker, “You gonna open it?”

Waller smiled, pleased that she had gotten her way, she took out a pair of keys and unlocked the front of the bunker and it opened with a loud klunk. Chato looked at hesitantly before crouching down and crawling inside, he hit his knee on the edge but managed to get inside unscathed. He turned around and sat with his legs kicked out in front of him.

It actually was pretty spacious, his head was nowhere near the top but he couldn't spread his arms out to their full wingspan. The length of the bunker was longer than his height—not like he was a big guy anyway.

Waller looked at him for a reaction, and she gestured to the door, silently asking if she could close it and he shrugged. It closed loudly, and he heard it lock. He was glad he wasn't claustrophobic or else he would have more protests about his new ‘cell’, but overall he liked that you couldn't really see him unless you got close to the window which Waller did.

“How is it?” she asked.

“It ain't a mansion.” he said.

Waller made a face like she wanted to chuckle but she just said, “You'll receive two meals a day, three once you start showing. You'll have a checkup every other week, I won't always be there but occasionally I will.”

“I ain't a child, I don't need you by my side.” Chato said.

“Everyone wants comfort, even me.” Waller said.

Chato just stared at her, refusing to agree with her though she was right. Everyone liked being taken care of and everyone wanted help no matter how reluctant they were to receive it, it's just that with Waller he didn't know if her help was just a path to her ulterior motives.

“I'm going to head out now. During your checkups, make sure you're completely honest. It makes it easier on everyone involved.” Waller said slapping the top of the bunker. He watched her walk away and no sooner he heard the rumbling sounds of a helicopter overhead.

He looked around him at the metal walls of the bunker, this was his home for the next nine months, he would get used to it. He had lived in worse places before he got into the drug game and started making big money. Back when he and Grace had first started dating, he had been embarrassed to show her where he stayed and only after they were bonded did he finally bring her to his house, it wasn't much later that they had moved in together—she hadn't minded supporting him in the beginning, she insisted it was her alpha duties.

He laid back and holding his palm straight up, fire conjured from his hand with a light spark. He illuminated the bunker and like that his body was glowing from the reflective light. Right on his stomach just under his pecs, small and unnoticeable was the word _Gracia_ , a tribute to his mate, it was his first tattoo. He recalls being the tender age of fifteen, enamoured with pretty alpha that would eye him hungrily on her way home from school. As soon as they were bonded, they went and got matching tattoos. She had one in the same place, same style, that said _El Diablo_ —the name the streets gave him.

The flame in his hand started taking shape—he was pleased to see his fire had returned. The tip rounded off until it was a tiny head and it led into the rest of the flame, becoming a body. A woman danced in his palm and as he closed his fist around it, he extinguished her. Waving his head, he noticed that it was getting darker outside.

Turning on his side, his hand still in the air, he decided that he wanted another tattoo. Maybe his children’s names—Angel and Amias. He closed his eyes, their sweet faces in his head. He liked that idea very much.


	2. Silence

There was something about the silence that he hated. The word was contradictory of itself because once you said it it was no longer what it meant. It was also the fact that silence was his world now—solitary confinement was silence, and it highlighted the loneliness. He was trapped in a tiny cell with no one but him and his thoughts, and occasionally a guard would come by and shoot the shit with him. In his old life, he was undoubtedly more active. There was never a silent moment in all of his existence until now. When he was born his mother said he was the loudest baby she had ever heard. Back in his old world there was always Zoe talking to him about what she learned in school or what she had saw that day, and he listened diligently—she would often ask him questions and he would respond until she understood everything that he said, it's not surprising she talks so much, she definitely got it from him.

Even in his old world nights weren’t silent, they were filled with the sounds of gunfire, the titillating screams, hell, even that little beep that he would hear from his viewfinder when focusing on a target was pleasant to him. On the flipside of his illegal line of work, at night he would always have some sweet little beta warming up his bed, screaming like they never had someone better or he would try his luck with an female alpha and the sex was mostly athletic, sometimes painful, and a tryst that was more or less a battle for dominance. His life before solitary confinement was never silent, he only knew the textbook definition of silence, now he truly knew how it felt.

He doesn’t know if Batman or the woman with the afro knew what the silence did to him and had planned this all out, but it was one hell of a punishment.

To get pass the quietness, he would talk to himself...about anything and nothing. The guards probably thought he was two tacos short of a Mexican salad. If he wasn’t talking to himself then he was sleeping, in his dreams there were all kinds of noises and finally if he wasn’t doing either of those he was working out, like now. The blunt sound that surrounded the cell as his fists pounded into the punching bag in quick succession was loud, and he loved it. He moved around the bag, delivering a sharp jab, imagining it was Batman’s stupid cowl.

He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and he pulled his arm over his head, stretching it before doing the same on the other side. Not only did working out stop the silence but it also distracted him from his worries. He hadn’t received any letters from Zoe in a week, and though he was a rational and generally calm man, he was getting a bit worried. She always sent him a letter every week, and he received it on the same exact day—she always said she wanted to make sure he knew her whole week and what she did so it was like he was right there with her.

In the corner of the room, was a neat stack of white envelopes, sometimes pink or with drawings on them, she said that it can’t be pink and have drawings cause that was too extra. The stack felt off because he knew he was missing a letter. He knew there was twelve weeks worth of letters, twelve letters in all and it felt wrong that it wasn’t thirteen. It was supposed to be thirteen letters.

Everyday when he got lunch, he would ask the same question. Did he get any mail? Then along with the sickening lunch, he got more disappointment knowing that he didn’t get a letter from his daughter. He looked at the tiny barred window high up, and he could tell from the lighting that it was almost lunchtime, and it was only a few minutes before he heard a loud knock.

The slot on his cell door was pulled open to reveal Griggs' face. Floyd liked him, he was a funny guy—sometimes stupid and a little racist, but nonetheless a funny guy. He walked closer to the door and took the offensive plastic wrapped sandwich. It had a green tint to it.

“What’s this shit?” Floyd asked, waving the sandwich in the air with two fingers, barely wanting to touch the nasty thing that they expected him to eat. When he wrote back to Zoe, he often lied about the lunches because they were shit. It was always some new sandwich and he hated having to guess what kind of meat he was eating.

“Egg salad. It’s good shit man,” Griggs said genuinely, licking his lips to emphasize just how good he thought it was.

Floyd raised an eyebrow, “You need to be locked up if you that crazy to believe I’ma put this in my mouth.”

“You're not gonna eat it?” Griggs asked, “‘Cause I’ll take it, man.”

Floyd looked through the slot at Griggs and laughed, “Nah, you look like you need to lay off the calories, and especially these egg salad sandwiches.”

“Fuck you, I’m sorry I don’t have any fried chicken for you,” Griggs said sharply, and there was those lovable stereotypical jokes that Floyd adored.

“Here, you can have it, I'd rather starve,” He passed the sandwich back through the slot, he hasn’t been eating a lot actually. His bulk had turned to leaner more prominent muscles since he wasn’t taking in that many calories, some of the food was just unbearable.

Griggs snatched it up, “Thanks man,” and began eating it with no manners whatsoever. He smacked and chewed with his mouth open and Floyd just rolled his eyes at the man’s antics.

“So have I got any mail?” Floyd asked, remembering why lunchtime was so important. He needed to get Zoe’s letter, find out what happened and how she was doing, and he needed to write back to show that even if he was locked up he still cared about her.

“Nope,” Griggs said through a mouthful of mashed egg salad and he paused to swallow, “I think some of the mail’s been getting lost, going in and out, but I'll check for you.”

“Thanks I'd appreciate it,” Floyd said sincerely, it was fortunate for him that the letters have been getting lost because that meant there was the possibility that Zoe was perfectly fine and her letters were just lost, or that's what he was going to believe so he wouldn't go crazy worrying over her. He had to distract himself somehow, thank the lords that Griggs was such a loud eater or the silence would've made it worse. He decided to ask, “So what's going on around here, you're the big dog, so you gotta know everything right?”

Griggs swallowed and then took another bite, agreeing with him, “Yeah man, I run this place but lately Amanda Waller’s been lurking around, undermining me and shit.”

“The Amanda Waller, the woman with the ‘fro, she hasn't been here since she came to rub it in my face that I was locked up now,” Floyd said, now a bit curious as to why that woman was here.

“Yeah, she likes doing that even to good non-criminals like myself,” Griggs said indignantly and then he looked back and forth down the halls, “But I know why she's here.”

Floyd looked intrigued, “Oh yeah. Why?”

“She's got a sweet little unbonded omega hiding out here, he killed like three people or something but I think he's getting off the hook cause he's her bitch.” Griggs whispered.

“An omega?” Floyd said rhetorically, he and many others have never met an omega but to know that one was here in the same prison as him, unbonded, made his pants tighten something fierce.

“Yep. I met him too, he's a little weird looking but he smelled good and his ass...” Griggs whistled, imagining the image in his head no doubt.

“And he's unbonded?” Floyd said.

“Yeah.”

“Why Waller ain't stake her claim yet?” Floyd asked. If there was an unbonded omega in front of him right now, the things he would do...he wouldn't hesitate to take what's unclaimed.

Griggs shrugged, “I don't know, she's probably one of the bonded to her work kind of people.”

“She is crazy.” Floyd stated.

“Tell me about it.” Griggs said and then his eyes got wide as he suddenly remembered something, “Oh also, you know Harley Quinn, right?”

Floyd is vaguely aware of when they used to work together, he never liked her, she was too unstable and dangerous to work with especially since she was so attached to The Joker, which was one of the few people that Floyd could admit was scary as hell. He nodded, “That bitch is cuckoo for cocoa puffs, what of her?”

“Dude, just like you, Batman caught her, she's moving in today. In the big cage.” Griggs said.

Floyd started laughing, he wish he could rub it in her face but he too was in prison because of the Batman but there was still something incredibly hilarious about it happening to her, “What about her boyfriend?”

“Oh The Joker got away, I bet you Waller was pissed about that. It seems like no one can capture the guy, huh," Griggs said with a shake of his head while also balling up the plastic wrap and chucking it over his shoulder.

"You're right about that," Floyd said, then he heard something muffled but still pretty loud, it sounded like a woman laughing or cackling he should say. He could recognize that laugh anywhere, it was that crazy bitch Harley Quinn.

Griggs heard it too because the man got a Grinch like smile, and licked his lips like when he was thinking of that sandwich, he looked at Floyd then down the hall, "I'm going to check out the fresh meat."

"You do that man." Floyd said.

"Catch you on the flip side," Griggs said and closed up the slot. Floyd could heard his loud footsteps as he walked away and closer to where the new inmate was being housed. Harley Quinn's new home for a long long time, there was something so pleasantly pleasing about that he just sat down. The best thing about this was that Harley would never be quiet, and he wouldn't have to face the silence for a while.

* * *

Harley turned and tossed as the guards tried to get her to go inside of the cage, right when she got close to the door she put both feet up on the bars and pushed her way back. Some of the guards tried to push back against her but her feet on the bars were making it difficult. She screamed out expletives, and threatened to blow the place to Timbuktu. Her hands were cuffed behind her but that didn't stop her from grabbing onto the guard closest behind her and pulling him so she could smash the back of her head into his nose. He dropped her and she fell since he was holding most of her, she wiggled up and got to her feet and began running in a zigzag pattern.

There was the intense urge to escape, she felt like rat locked in a maze looking for cheese. She kicked the first guard that got near her in the stomach but she didn't see the man coming from behind, he poked her right at the base of her spine with the shock baton. She seized up before surging right back up like the pain never registered to her. He did it again this time holding it longer as her body bucked from the shocking pain, when she finally fell was when he let up.

Standing over her was Griggs, the shock baton in his hand as he stared down at her unmoving body. He went to move her to the cage but wasn't expecting her to surge up and headbutt him, his nose started gushing as she sat criss cross applesauce and began laughing loudly, very similar to her diabolical lover The Joker.

Someone kicked her in the back and she fell over onto her front, she tried to worm her way up but this time someone kicked her in her side so hard that she became worried about internal bleeding. They grabbed her and threw her unceremoniously into the cage, and the bar rattled as she slammed into them. They quickly locked the cage preventing her from making a run for it.

She growled at them, her amusement now gone being replaced with pain, “That hurt y’know!”

Griggs looked at her in shock fully aware of the blood rushing down his mouth and onto his chin, he pointed at his face, “And you think this doesn't?”

“You deserve it,” she said defiantly turning up her nose. Their violence was entirely uncalled for, and it should've ended with the shock baton. It was only natural for her to fight back, she wasn't going to just let them throw her in prison like she was some sort of animal.

Griggs turned away, going to get some tissue to stop his nose from bleeding, hoping that it wasn't broken. Harley knew it was broken, she had a big brain and a hard head to protect it. The other guards stared at her waringly before following Griggs to check on their CO. She rolled up when she saw that they all had left, and as soon as she was standing she hissed at the rushing pain to her left side.

They had left her cuffs on hoping that it would deter her or break her spirit down or some other shit. She waved her head back and forth wildly, until she heard a tiny metal clink. Looking around on the, surprisingly enough, spotless gray floor and she stopped the black hair pin. Getting down on her knees, she turned her back to it and grasped around with her hands. With the pin in her hand she began she began picking the lock.

She didn't notice a person walking as she was too focused on getting out of the cuffs. Finally with a tiny click, the cuffs fell off her wrists and she pulled them to her front shaking the kinks out.

“Aren't you a smart cookie?”

Harley snapped her head around to look at Waller, who was looking at her emotionless with her hands behind her back. Harley stood up and sided up the bars, holding on to them she smiled sweetly at Waller.

“How did you get that past the metal detector?” Waller asked, referring to the hair pin.

Harley tapped her temple, “It's stainless steel, it's fifty percent harder to detect.”

“Seems that you are a smart cookie, you did graduate at the top of your class. Sum cumlaude, right?” Waller said, and Harley already knew that the woman knew everything that was possible to know about the once prestiged psychologist.

“Eh, that's just something they do to get more recognition. Schools like having the smartest of thr smartest and those titles are just to exemplify how intelligent their students are,” Harley said very eloquently but then licked her lips with a grin, “So are cages like a kink for ya?”

“It's to keep the worst of the worst of the worst away from others but giving you a glimpse of freedom, it's harmless torture.” Waller said, looking smug.

Harley held a hand to her chest, accosted, “Little ol’ me? I'm the harmless thing here.”

Waller scoffed, “That's laughable, you're a cold blooded criminal.”

“And you're a cold blooded bitch, I just happen to enjoy killing for pleasure, no need to be judgy about it.” Harley said with a groan.

Waller got an image in her head of a stereotypical teenage girl arguing her with her mother. Even if she wasn't older than the infamous Queen of Hearts, Harley Quinn would always remind her of an insolent child.

Waller turned her heel, facing away from the cage, “I'm done with you,” she said lowly. She made her way to exit the room.

“Don't I get a phone call?” Harley yelled out, pulling at the bars making the cage rattle. She started crawling up the walls, the perfect picture of craziness.

“Unless it's to call your boy toy to turn him in, then no.” Waller said, and left the room. She would deal with Harley Quinn later, seeing as her plans were coming into fruition.

“We're soulmates!” Harley yelled after her. She slid down to the ground, her mask slipping away. Her expression was no longer that of a deranged criminal but a lost woman. She was the only splotch of color among the drab gray.

She was hopelessly and utterly alone now, and so far she had no idea how she would get it. All she could do was hope that her Puddin was out there looking for her as desperately as she was thinking of him.

Waller’s heels clicked as she worked her way along the cell doors, one of the guards that were in this section of the prison was accompanying her. The doors were all close to each other, she knew that each cell felt like a box. Those in solitary confinement didn't realize how close they actually were to another human being.

She stopped at one door. She knew exactly the kind of man that was locked behind there. A cold, calculated, and remarkably talented killer. She pulled back the slot and stared at the man working on the punching bag like it was the Dark Knight himself.

“Deadshot.”

The man’s head snapped around. There was something in his eyes, something that clicked in him from hearing that name. His fists stopped moving but he didn't turn around all the way.

“I'm Amanda Waller. I work for the President.” She said, and Floyd chuckled a bit.

“Unless you're here to tell me that the President has personally pardoned me then I don't have anything to say to you.” Floyd said.

“That's more of a fantasy, I'm here about the reality,” Waller said, and she was annoyed by the lack of response. She reached on the inside of her suit jacket, and pulled out a single envelope with a drawing of a little girl on the back, “I think you'd be more interested in this.”

Floyd glanced over his shoulder and blinked at the envelope sticking through the slot. Recovering quickly, he swiftly moved and grabbed the letter and opening it.

Waller watched him read through it, his eyes scanning over his daughter’s words. A smile spread across his face, and he even laughed a few times. When he was finished he put the letter back in the envelope and adding it to rest of the ones he received.

“I just wanted to deliver it myself since I already wanted to speak to you.” She said.

“You work for the president, I don't know why would would want to speak to me?” Floyd said baffled, he was willing to listen but only because she had brought him his daughter's letter right when he was beginning to worry for the worst.

“I have a proposition.”

“Oh really?” Floyd said, not bothering to contain his interest, “What kind of proposition?”

“One that would entail a reduced prison sentence.” Waller said, and she could see at that moment that she had gotten his full attention.

“Who I gotta kill?” he asked smirking.

“Nothing like that but I would want you to work for me, apart of a specialized team.” Waller said, “I would just need to tie up a few more loose ends and collect a few more members and then I will be ready.”

“Would I have to kill someone?” He asked.

“Depends.” Waller said, not giving an exact answer, “So what do you think?”

“Depends.” He echoed her.

She nodded, a hit of a smile hanging off the edge of her lips, “Think about it. It's your best option so far.”

“You got it ma'am.” He said. He wasn't opposed to her idea if it meant he would get out sooner, and therefore get to see his daughter sooner, but Waller could be playing him. Get him to work for her and then right when he wants to cash in his check, she throws him back in here to never see sunlight again.

He liked the idea of sunlight.

* * *

Bellevue was a large extensive prison with many different sections for different superpowered and super crazy criminals, even sections for doing less than ethical experimentation—black projects. When she designed this prison, she had complete creative control over the overall setup but sometimes there were even factors and outcomes she couldn't predict and think of.

So far the biggest accommodation they've had to make was for one scary, inhumane son of a bitch she's ever met—Waylon “Killer Croc” Jones. They've been tracking the murderous crocodilian man, and for a long time he was sort of a myth among Gotham. A man that looked like a crocodile that ate people, just had to be something made up, but Amanda Waller had more faith especially since she knew exactly what kind of humans roamed their world.

They managed to tie him to all the murders and robberies, and even connected him to a gang which seemed to be the main way he had escaped police for so long. When they found him, he had been exiled from his gang, and there was no semblance of humanity in him. He managed to kill most of the police officers and her own operatives, it had taken a large team to capture him. He had never told her what happened to him. He had never revealed why he had fallen—why he was no more than a wild animal now.

They had to accommodate for his condition. He was too dangerous to keep around, and they wouldn't be able to force him into an isolated cell, there was no point in wasting manpower. Thankfully, he agreed to comply if he could live in the sewers. Waller had been reluctant, worried he could escape but after securing the area and blocking off any exits, she had went with it.

The thing was when Waller told him she'd allow for him to stay in the sewers, there was a spark in his eyes. That humanity that she had thought was gone from him, it was still inside him deep down. He was pleased by her decision. He was happy, if only for that moment.

Waller wasn't sure about including Killer Croc in her specialized team. He was too dangerous, too uncontrollable. She didn't want any loose ends or loose canons. She could control Deadshot with his child, Harley Quinn with her love, and ever El Diablo with his own pain, but what did Killer Croc have left to lose. He had no humanity, he's killed his family, and she doesn't even know if he's even capable of love.

She just wasn't sure if he was right for her team, but he was strong—really strong. Not even Batman has managed to outright take him out. He was a strong asset, but she would need to find a way to control him.

So that's why she was staring down into the grate that kept her from fall to the sewers. That very grate stood between the world above and the world Killer Croc lived beneath the surface.

“Open it, I'm going down.”

Griggs is looking at her like she's out of her mind, and at this point she think she may be. There are a group of guards behind her, their batons and nightsticks at the ready. She looks at him expectantly.

“Um are you sure, don't you know that he fucking eat people?” Griggs asked frantically.

“Obviously.” Waller said, completely deadpan. She remained unbothered by fear when it held her back from going one step further.

“Okay it's your funeral…”he said under his breath, bending down, he used his key to unlock the grate and pulling it up. His nose wrinkled as he got a whiff of the musty sewer scent.

Waller pat the side of her chest, feeling her holster and her two guns. She had firearms, and he had nothing. She also knew the layout of the entire prison, and as she climbed down the ladder and turned around she saw there was grated wall that separated her from Killer Croc’s room, and the only way in was through a door which she didn't have the key for. She was slightly grossed out by the squishiness her heels went into when she touched the water.

“Killer Croc?” She called out. There was a dingy mattress but no one was on it, she squinted her eyes trying to see in what was basically complete darkness, the only light was coming from above.

She almost jumped when she saw the yellow eyes glow from a corner in the room. A low growl signaled that he was moving towards her. Croc came forward staring at her through the gate.

“Whatchu want?” He asked, his voice rough and scratchy from not using it, his tone was clearly hostile. He was annoyed.

“To talk.” She said, hoping she was coming off peaceful and friendly rather than someone with an ulterior motive.

He sucked his teeth, and turned away, “I don't want to talk.”

“Well I'll talk, and you can listen,” she said.

He grunted, and he sat on the bed. He was almost a perfect picture of relaxed, he had even leaned back a little back but he was eyeing her with pure distrust. He knew that whatever came out of her mouth would be bullshit.

“I want to offer a deal,” she started, wondering how she would word this so she could sway him. He may have been animalistic, and she knew when they had tested him they found he was “slow”, but she knew he wasn't stupid, “Quid pro quo, you do something for me and I do something for you.”

“What if I ain't got nothing for you to do?” He said.

“I'm sure there's something, and I want to make this as pleasant as possible,” she said, hoping that he understood that she meant if he wouldn't go with the flow then they would have to take more forceful options.

“Whatchu want?” He said, repeating himself. He understood subtext but didn't care for it one bit.

“A team. An elite team that will fight for our government and defeat the undefeatable. I want you on that team.”

“Nah.” He said simply.

“Excuse me.” Waller looked accosted by his short reply.

“The government ain't never done nothing for me, why should I fight for it?” Croc said looking very angry by her offer.

“Don't think of it that way, think of it like we'll pay you back after you do what we need you to do.” Waller said, “I'm sure there's something you want. All humans want something.”

Croc looked uncomfortable by her adding human to the sentence but he was quiet. He was thinking. Maybe there was something that he wanted, something that he's been waiting for for a long time.

“Solomon Grundy.”

“Solomon Grundy?” Waller racked her brain, and she got the image of a gray hulking man who she knew from reports and sightings was only out for destruction, “the zombie, Solomon Grundy?”

“Yeah...I want revenge.”

Waller shook her head, already calculating that damage expenses and the lecture the President will give her for allowing two supervillains to interact freely, “Too much destruction.”

“The only way...that’s the only way I'll fight on your team.” He grumbled.

“Why him? How would we even find him?” Waller asked, genuinely curious.

“I want revenge for what he did to me. What he stole from me,” Croc said, seemingly in a far away place as he reminisced about the man he once was and then like it never happened he said, “He travels with a gang.”

“How do you know for sure?” She asked.

“I just know.”

She just stared at him, and he stared back so apparently that was his final answer since he didn't say anymore. He rolled back so he was laying on his back and he proceeded to ignore Waller, but was still very aware of her presence.

“I can't guarantee anything.” She said, not revealing whether or not she agreed or not. She just took one last look and then ascended up the ladder.

Griggs looked at her wide eyed, “I thought you were a goner.”

Waller rolled her eyes, and motioned for him to lock the grate back up. She was done with Killer Croc for right now. She was going to focus on other things, like her perfect specimen.

* * *

The one thing Chato could say he really enjoyed about the bunker for a makeshift cell was the silence. It was pleasant. He had been in prison before, back when he was younger and dumber, and he hated the how loud all the other inmates were. It was like they couldn't stop talking, or making other unnecessary noises. He had always been a quiet guy, and thus had grown to appreciate the silence.

He didn't need or want anyone to talk to, especially not since he had his own thoughts to occupy his brain. It was like he couldn't stop thinking; the fire, his family, his baby, his death. There was just so much to dwell on, and he had a whole nine months to think about it.

Speaking of his baby, it seemed that when he wasn't thinking he was talking to it. Telling it stories and teaching it spanish. He knew that it didn't have a brain yet but it was something he had done with his own kids, and Grace’s mother had always encouraged it saying that she had done it with Grace.

He told the fetus all about his powers too, so when it came out into the world it would know what kind of man their daddy was. It would know that he wasn't a bad guy, he was just living with the wrong conditions which is what Grace always said to him. Back when they had started dating, she was the only one who would ever hang with him, since everyone else was wary of an omega with fire powers. She had always saw the good in him, no matter what he did.

He wanted his baby to see the good in him too, to know that there was good in him somewhere. Even when it grew up and people would tell his child he was no more than a gangbanging destructive criminal—it would know. They would know. That was always a habit of his that Grace had hated, back when he was pregnant it was like he had trouble acknowledging the baby as a human.

His baby was human, even if they came out with powers up to the sun. They would be more human than he could ever be. Being pregnant again brought out his motherly instincts that he had thought he'd lost with when he'd lost his children, but it appears they were never truly gone. Being pregnant almost made him regret his deal with Waller. He almost didn't want to die. He almost felt the will to live, just so he could protect his child as they grew up.

Chato was surprised by how attached he was getting to a child that he would probably never even see. He didn't want to get attached, but as soon as he saw that his stomach was growing, it brought him back to the moments when he was pregnant with his own children. He would need to stop whatever feelings he was getting for the baby. So that when it was all over, it wouldn't hurt as much.

A knock on the glass window broke him out of his thoughts and he scooted forward to see who it was. Amanda Waller stared at him, a small smile hanging off her lips, and Chato knew there was nothing sincere about it. He hasn't seen the woman in four weeks, but he had been hearing from his doctors (who have grown to enjoy him) that she was up to something that involved the prison.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her voice muffled through the window, and he wondered if she was asking because she didn't want anything to happen to her precious investment.

“Good.” He said.

“How's the baby?” She asked.

Chato unconsciously wrapped his hands around his stomach hoping to hide the growing baby bump. Waller made him uneasy, there was something wrong about the woman. He felt like she would be better off in prison then he would.

“You prolly’ already know more about that than I do.” He said knowing that his doctors sent weekly—maybe daily—reports to her about his and the baby’s status.

“I want to hear from you.” Waller said. Maybe it was the hormones or maybe the loneliness was starting to get to him, and he was craving affection, but something about the way she said it made him want to tell her everything. She actually sounded like she cared.

Chato shrugged, “Good too I guess...getting bigger.”

“That's great.” Waller said, looking pleased by his answer.

“Yeah I guess.” Chato said, “How are you?” he asked, but not because he cared. He was just trying to prolong the conversation so he wouldn't return to the silence. He liked the silence but not everyday.

“Busy,” Waller said, intentionally not revealing anything about her work.

“Is it because of Harley Quinn?” Chato asked, and when Waller’s eyes got a dark look it was safe to assume that he shouldn't have know about that. Dr. LaGreive had been telling him about how the infamous female gangster was arriving, and without her more notorious male counterpart.

“How do you know about that?” She asked accusingly.

“My doctors told me that she's here,” Chato said.

“Oh really? Did they say anything else?” Waller interrogated.

“Like what?”

“Did they say anything else?”

Chato stared at her and answered truthfully, since he's never been a liar, “They told me you were up to no good, and its got to do with the prison.”

Waller sneered and stomped her foot, “Insubordination makes me sick.”

“They ain't do nothing wrong, you're the one doing sketchy shit,” Chato said defending his doctors.

“But they're the ones that spoke of it,” Waller said. She walked away from the bunker and decided what she would need to do, and under her breath she said, “and that's even worse.”

Chato knew she was heading to visit his doctors and he cursed his big ass mouth. Now he had something new to think about until his next checkup. Now all he would be able to wonder is if his doctors would be there when he was due to see them. He was actually starting to like them too.

Why did he always have to run his mouth, or why couldn't he just lie like a normal criminal? Grace always like his honesty, but to him it was just another curse to plague his life.


End file.
